


Like A Charmed Flute

by GodOfWar



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Baby Box, Baby Hatch, Blood, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Was Raphael Before He Fell (Good Omens), Crowley to the Rescue (Good Omens), Crowley's Army of Rats, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Near Death, Other, Post-Apocalypse, Rats, She is plotting something but whatever it is author Doesn't Know, Threat of Asphyxiation, Trust, btw pick your trash people you aren't being cute, infant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-01-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:26:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22456447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GodOfWar/pseuds/GodOfWar
Summary: There is a tiny army of rats, one very confused ethereal being and a miracle of keeping a sleeping angel under all that demon's bluster.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 80





	Like A Charmed Flute

**Author's Note:**

> Was this supposed to happen? No.  
> Will I write second part? No.  
> Was it self- indulgent wish to see that for every bad thing that happens universe is ready to throw something good at it and rejoice? Yes.
> 
> Enjoy!

"Darling, there is a rat sitting on your shoe…ah, let me just…"Aziraphale raised his hand, fingers poised to snap when it was suddenly covered by warm palm pressed to his wrist. He frowned but conceded, turning his wrist and tangling their fingers together, putting them joined on his lap. The rat didn't seem spooked, looking up from his place with far too smart eyes and twitching nose. Crowley tapped his knee and they watched as it squeaked, took hold of the edge of Crowley's jeans and started climbing up, finally settling itself on Crowley's thigh. Long fingers reached out, picking the creature up. 

It was surprisingly pleasant looking, with glossy dark grey fur that reminded Aziraphale of velvet and plump form that most city rats sported, feeding well on all the food literally lying on the streets. It stood on its hind legs, clawed paw moving over the delicate thin skin of a tiny round ear. It was adorable. 

And probably dirty. 

Crowley didn't look like it was a problem to him. He was keeping the small creature right before his face and then suddenly all air seems to leave his lungs in one long breath.

"Lead away, lass." And before he knew it Aziraphale was tugged up from their customary bench and leaving St James park at a rather brisk pace. Fallowing, of all things, a sever rat, apparently.

"Crowley, Crowley! What in the world is happening. Were are you dragging me?" Crowley didn't answer, his mouth pulled in a tight line, eyebrows scrunched in a complicated expression and fingers impatiently pulling Aziraphale forward. He stopped, his husband's hand slipping from his own. Crowley took two more steps propelled mostly by the speed he was going at, before he twisted sideways to look at Aziraphale. "Slow down. Or at least tell me in what mischief you are just getting us."

Crowley opened his mouth, closed it and then shook his head like words escaped him altogether. He tried once again before what came out was…

"Come. Please."

Worry sat itself in his gut, sharp and unexpected, at hearing the tightness of Crowley's voice, sinking even lower when the demon took one more half step away, turning halfway, searching for the escaped rodent.

"Is it dangerous?"

"No, not to us, anyway...but we don't have much time, Aziraphale…" The sharp relived sigh fallowed immediately after Aziraphale grasped his hand once more, squeezing gently and then they hurried toward the disappearing long tail. 

They landed in the back of a small alley. Or maybe barely a nook, truly, but put away from all the loud hubbub of the main roads and dark enough that even cloudless summer day was not able to chase away the lingering shadows. It was dirty. Trash escaped the bins in a flowing cascade, accumulating to the point that nobody seemed to bother to go all the way in and just left their plastic bags closer to the entrance then any passing pedestrian would desire. And the smell alone could lay a lesser man down more easily then a barrel of mead.

There was a group of rats, perhaps ten, sitting on the smaller mound off to the right side. Five others greeted them before they rounded the corner, running in that funny jumping way, tails swaying. Air filled with squeaks as they saw two human-shaped beings, standing up and sitting down, gritting and gnashing their teeth together. 

Crowley took one look at the mess and miracled half of it _elsewhere_ , making his way to the group. He crouched down, and suddenly made a low wounded sound that had Aziraphale walk right in the alley with him, clothes and his nose be damned. 

Crowley held a plastic bag, one hand across his chest, his dark jacket with sanguine red stitching forgotten as he cradled it closer. It was full of holes and Aziraphale would bet his rarely used halo that it was made by a dozen of sharp little teeth of present company. It was bloody. 

And moving. 

Crowley teared away at the white thick foil of a Tesco bag and Aziraphale felt his heart break a little bit more at the sight of one more proof of human cruelty. The baby inside was breathing, but only just. Going by the knot on the top of the bag it was not meant to. It was too silent, but its half open eyes were filled with all the impossible colours that would make people describe them with inadequate 'black-blue' from the lack of better words. Aziraphale saw hundreds babies with eyes like those and the pain in him grew with knowledge that they might have always stay this way.

He came closer as Crowley tried to get rid of the rest of the foil and blood and placenta, helping as much as he could. He didn't know whose miracle got the baby clean, whose warded the alley, whose made a soft green blanket appear. He only knew that it was him who looked at their small spectators and clicked his fingers filling a large flat plate with enough milk for Crowley's small rat army and enough bread and strawberries for few more.

Crowley slid against the dirty wall, sitting on the ground with a baby face tucked in his neck and Aziraphale felt the power rise as his husband demanded for the universe to shift to his desires. And the universe obeyed, filling the run down alley in the middle of the London with hard resounding cry of a very displeased newborn.

@

"Brenda! It happened again!"

Brenda worked in her position for longer then Charlotte was even alive. Every child she saw put in that little baby hatch filled her both with the crumbling sadness at the circumstances and fierce joy that one more of those little angels could be saved and was given a chance from a God to find a caring family, to be wanted and awaited and loved as all children deserve to be. There were more children as of late. Children swaddled in green minky blankets, children with a soft rat binkies with long bendy limbs and crocheted torsos. The mascots looked a bit different at the beginning of millenium, different still in the nineties and eighties when she began working. But they keep coming held by tiny fingers. Without notes, without explanations, without even one picture of a person who put the children inside the hatch even when there was a camera now pointing on the street.

Brenda took a child from a disbelieving Charlotte, no longer surprised by the turn of events, but with a sort of deep quiet faith once again sitting warm in her heart, she peered at the purple splotchy newborn fussing in the swaddle of blanket, tiny tartan baby gloves on equally tiny hand and smiled.

"Hello darling, met our mysterious angel, haven't you? Aren't you a blessing." And with a tiny kiss at the child's temple she whispered the most heartfelt 'thank you' she could give.

Less then a stone throw away one demon lost a step, righted himself out tugged gently by his husband's hold and then kissed their joined hands, yellow eyes alight with glee.

And somewhere else, in a place unreachable by any mortal eyes Almighty paused in Her work and thought to Herself that maybe it was Time. She looked at Her Raphael waving away Aziraphale's token protest as he pressed ice cream into soft manicured hand, and Decided. 

One more for an even number. And then…

**Author's Note:**

> Imagine my surprise that there is no such thing as baby hatch in UK. It's illegal there - a fact I wasn't aware when I wrote this fic in like an hour.
> 
> For those who don't know what a baby hatch is - it's a place where parent can leave a toddler without legal consequences and automatically looses parental rights, so the child can be adopted right away. It's a way to give a child up in a way that would spare a parent ostracism, fear, shame and all the most unpleasant things that they would face for not raising their child themselves or being for some reason unable to find adoptive parents. (baby hatch idea is not bound to only 'west' world and works in places like South Africa, Pakistan and India where a there is a high percentage of infanticide due economical and social reasons) The concept is floating about since Middle Ages and works in a handful of countries.
> 
> hope that cleared it out


End file.
